Grieving
by Beckydaspatz
Summary: What would have happened if Spike had comforted Buffy after Joyces death? Idea that has been bugging me a while now. Please read and review


A.N.: This is my version of if Spike had showed up after Joyce's funeral instead of Angel. Mostly cause I don't like Angel. Scratch that, I like him fine, just not with Buffy. Anyway not much else to say, I tried to stay as true to the characters as humanly possible. I hope at least one person enjoys this. :)

**_Grieving_**

Her head was bent in quiet reverence, and she stared down at the fresh dirt. "Oh Mom," her voice shook as the setting sun caught on the marble headstone. She sank to her knees, rocking her body back and forth as she wept, muffling the sound into her chest. She took a shuddering breath and wiped at her black stained cheeks. "Sorry Mom, I know I promised I would be strong…I just don't know what to do without you. " She paused thinking of Dawn, of how she didn't know how to take care of Dawn. "And Dawn, God Mom, what am I supposed to do with Dawn?" she yelled in outrage, angry at her for leaving her in this cruel, harsh world. Even a Slayer had to break sometime.

He rounded the corner, steaming at the accusation that Harris had slung his way. Trying to get into Buffy's pants right after her mum had died…he was evil…he wasn't THAT evil. He slowed as he approached Joyce's grave, stalled at the site of the Slayer with her face pushed into the grass. His voice caught in his throat as he smelt the salt, watched her petite body shake. "Mom…" she groaned, fist balling up into the grass. Her breath hitched as a fresh wave of sobs wracked her body. Spike broke with her, holding back a sob as he fought the urge to gather her in his arms. "Mommy," she whispered, sputtering, raising back her fistful of grass and flinging it onto the fresh grave. He backed up a few steps, flinching when she unleashed a hellish scream, animalistic…broken. "Fuck!" she exclaimed, pulling up to her feet. "AHHHHHHH!" Her head was tilted back, her hair caked to her face by tears, her throat raw from her shout. Spike shook from the force of her rage, leaned up against the closest tree, hands trembled with an effort to deflect her emotion. "God Buffy," he sighed, bouquet dropping to the ground.

She whirled on him, fury and fight as she raised the stake in her hand. "Who's there?" she questioned, eyes landing on the blonde vampire who was unable to meet her glare. "Oh it's just you." She mumbled, tucking the stake back into her jacket. He lifted his head to challenge her gaze. "Yeah Slayer, it's just me." "What are you doing here?" she snapped, turning away from him. He held out the offering in his left hand, "Here to see a lady." He replied as he joined her by Joyce's grave.

They didn't say anything as they stood side by side, Spike stooped to place the flowers on the ground. He sighed heavily, watching for Buffy's reaction. "They're beautiful." She said finally, daring a glance at him. Her eyes were rimmed with red, spectacular blue in a dead face. "Not what she deserves, but I figured…" he broke off, eying his boots with renewed interest. "Right then," he moved to leave, shocked by the tiny hand on his arm. Her voice was tiny as she uttered. "Stay." He stayed. "I can't feel anything…" she muttered. "Legs, arms, anything." He reached out to grip her arm. "You're still here pet, all arms and legs accounted for." She didn't shake him off, didn't lean into him, just stayed staring into nothingness. It was torture for Spike to watch. "Buffy, what can I do?" he released her arm and ran a hand through his hair. "Just stay. "She repeated, voice cracking with a new wave of emotion.

The first hour was the worst. He just stood by her as she stared, body motionless except for the slight rise and fall of her chest. The second hour she sank to her knees, arms gripping her sides, shivering slightly. She didn't notice when Spike slid off his duster and gently laid it on her shoulders. The third hour she was speaking softly to him, to Joyce, to God…he had no idea. The fourth hour she was quiet again and Spike sat with her, watching her stoic face, everything in the air still. The next hour her body slumped as it leaned into his shoulder. He started, not sure what to do as he looked down at the dozing blonde. He decided to stay completely still as he watched her sporadic breathing. "Mom, don't go." She mumbled as her body shook in response. She wailed softly, tears running down her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." Spike brushed a trail of her tears with his finger, shushing her softly. "Shhh love, it's alright. Everything is all right." Her body tightened as Spike realized she was awake. "Spike," she pushed off of him swallowing the lump in her throat. "Um… yeah?" he leaned away from her. She glanced at him nervously, straightening her hair. "What time is it?" she inquired. He squinted into the star speckled night before shrugging slightly. "I dunno. Probably an hour or two past midnight, I'd wager."

She stood to her feet, brushing at the dirt on her jeans, hastily wiping her tear stained cheeks. He followed suite straightening as she met his eyes. "Spike," she started. "Buffy," he whispered tenderly. Her look got hard as Spike coughed. "I mean Slayer." She pulled the duster off of her shoulders, fingers absent mindedly rubbing the leather. She held the coat out at arms length, hand trembling slightly. His hand reached up to retrieve the offering, startled as she held his hand for a second longer than necessary. She opened her mouth to speak, stopped, took a breath and opened her mouth again. "Spike, thank you." He took the coat from her with a shrug. "Yeah, s'not like I need it, for looks really." He finished slipping it back on. She caught him as he went to turn, her grip iron like on his arm, her eyes searing into him. He didn't speak…afraid to break the spell over them. "No, not for that…for…" her voice drifted away as she sucked in a sharp breath. "Thank you." She repeated, words pouring out of her in a rush of emotion.

She released his arm then staring at his face, waiting for a reaction, any sort of reaction. He smiled softly at her, titling his head in her direction. "It's late. I need to get home" There it was. The spell was broken. She turned from him then, and walked away silently away from the graveyard. He also left a half smile on his lips the whole way back to his crypt. For a second, for just a brief moment in time, he had seen Buffy's it was not just magnificent, it was effulgent.


End file.
